


It's You (The Shape of Your Body Is New)

by aktura



Series: All's Well That Ends Well (To End Up With You) ‘verse [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Steve Harrington, Creampie, Declarations Of Love, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious Steve Harrington, Pining Dustin Henderson, Possessive Dustin Henderson, Protective Dustin Henderson, Top Dustin Henderson, Unrealistically Good First Time, Unrequited Love, Unsafe Sex, Wooing, at first, but then, no sexy times until Dustin's sixteen, not beta read because we ain't got time for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 03:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20735501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aktura/pseuds/aktura
Summary: Dustin likes Steve. He's a good friend, though even Dustin can admit that the two of them are a bit mismatched. He sometimes likes to think that's what makes them work, that they each… compensate for whatever it is the other is lacking, filling up each other's empty spaces.Not that he'd ever say it out loud.In which Dustin comes to a realization. And then decides to do something about it.





	It's You (The Shape of Your Body Is New)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TurtleNovas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurtleNovas/gifts).

> This is for TurtleNovas, in appreciation of all of their great Steve/Dustin fics (as well as a thank you for the inspiration to write this). I hope you like it!
> 
> Title is a misheard Taylor Swift lyric from _Cruel Summer_.

//  
  
Will tells them on a Wednesday.  
  
Dustin, for once, finds himself strangely lost for words as Max leans towards Will, excited, and asks, “Do you like anyone?”  
  
The tips of Will’s ears turn red and he hesitates. “Henry?” he says, naming one of the more rambunctious boys in their class, and even though it comes out sounding like a question rather than a statement, Max nods in approval.  
  
“Good choice,” she says, adding, “Great hair”, over Lucas’ outraged exclamation.  
  
“Like Steve!” El giggles, making Mike glower as Will’s flush starts spreading down the side of his neck.  
  
Dustin tilts his head, frowning. Considering.  
  
_Huh_.  
  
//  
  
Dustin likes Steve. He's a good friend, though even Dustin can admit that the two of them are a bit mismatched. He sometimes likes to think that's what makes them work, that they each… compensate for whatever it is the other is lacking, filling up each other's empty spaces.  
  
Not that he'd ever say it out loud.  
  
Dustin’s mom thinks it's cute, once she gets over the fact that Steve’s not another kid but practically an adult who’s already out of high school. Hell knows why she thinks it's perfectly normal for Steve to want to hang around Dustin – she probably thinks Dustin's special enough to warrant it, like people can't help but love him the same way she does, not knowing that the bond he and Steve share first formed in Demodog blood.  
  
Either way, Steve sticks around long after El closes the gate. He gives Dustin rides, picking him up after school and letting Dustin drag him to the movies and out for milkshakes once spring arrives. He joins Dustin and his mom for Sunday dinner now and again, out of politeness at first, but it quickly becomes a regular thing once Steve gets used to the easy affection that Dustin's mom bestows on all those around her.  
  
Dustin suspects Steve might feel a bit lonely at home, especially now that his days of being King Steve seem to be over and his only real age-appropriate friend appears to be Robin. Steve never says anything about it, but he's always ready to spend time with Dustin whenever there's a chance and he always seems to enjoy Dustin's company, which is sometimes more than can be said for certain other people these days.  
  
So yeah. Dustin pretty much loves Steve.  
  
//  
  
Dustin and Suzie break up on a Tuesday in February. It’s not due to anything in particular, just... long-distance relationships are hard.  
  
Susie’s homeschooled but Dustin’s not, and once school starts again and he enters Freshman year, he can’t spend his days up on Weathertop. Then winter sets in, bringing along with it the inevitable snowstorms, and it’s even more difficult to spend time up on the hill; regular contact becomes less regular, and once the snow starts to show signs of melting it’s surprisingly difficult to get back into the same rhythm as before, too.  
  
Eventually they just agree that it’s best to just put things on hold.  
  
Dustin half suspects that Steve’s been preparing him for this all along, what with the way he’d shake his head and say “long-distance relationships, man” whenever Dustin complained. He can’t even blame Steve either, because he's always been supportive, and besides, it’s true.  
  
Still, after a mostly sleepless night he decides to brave what's left of the snow and ride his bike over to Steve’s house. Not to wallow, just to make sure that Steve hasn’t been planting subliminal messages in Dustin’s head.  
  
It’s still early, barely past dawn, which is probably why Steve answers the door in sweatpants and a T-shirt, looking disgruntled but also sleep-rumpled and warm. To Dustin’s utter delight, his hair is an absolute _mess_.  
  
“Shit,” Steve mumbles, his whole body sagging against the door jam as he gestures toward the rising sun. “What the hell?”  
  
“Morning!” Dustin pushes his way inside, making sure to elbow Steve in the side as he brushes past.  
  
Steve grunts something not meant for tender ears, but doesn’t stop Dustin from barging into the house like he owns it. Steve never minds, not even at the break of dawn, and his parents are never home, so Dustin doesn’t have to mind his manners. He drops his backpack in the hallway and heads for the large kitchen, surveying the bare marble counters.  
  
“I need pancakes,” he tells Steve, who’s scowling at him from the doorway.  
  
“Little shit, barging in here and demanding food,” Steve mutters, but he still starts opening cupboards and cabinets.  
  
Dustin hops up onto one of the counters and watches Steve work. He looks sleepy, moves a little slower than usual, and Dustin almost feels guilty for waking him up except, y’know, possible subliminal messages.  
  
The sunlight is breaking through the trees in Steve’s backyard now, and it paints the kitchen in an orange glow. Steve’s hair, which he keeps brushing out of his face, is sticking up and out and in all directions, creating a halo around his head.  
  
Dustin kicks his heels against the cabinets, and watches Steve mix the batter.  
  
Yeah, he likes spending time with Steve. Even at times like this, when they're quiet, Dustin feels comfortable and safe. Which might be why it feels alright to say it.  
  
“Suzie and I broke up.”  
  
Steve stops stirring. “Shit, kid,” he sighs, looking up at Dustin. “You okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dustin says, because it does feel pretty okay when Steve's looking at him like that, all open and available and focused. Like as long as Steve's here Dustin will be alright.  
  
Steve's gaze softens, and Dustin feels like squirming in his seat because Steve's probably not what would be considered classically handsome, but his face is one of the most expressive ones Dustin's ever seen, eyes too-large to ever be able to convey less than what he truly means. There's a tiny scar by his temple, almost unnoticeable where it runs up into his hairline, and most people likely wouldn't even see it, but Dustin remembers how the wound wouldn't stop bleeding, remembers the smell of the blood that slicked his hands in the backseat of Billy Hargrove’s car.  
  
That's probably why it looks worse to him than it actually is – looks gruesome bathed in the warm morning light of the kitchen as Steve’s watches him, because Dustin finds that Steve's _kind_ in a way that few people are anymore, the sort of kind that makes him start a fight he knows he'll never win because he isn't out for blood like other guy is. Steve hadn't stood a chance against someone like Billy Hargrove, who just wanted to hurt people, but he'd still placed himself in between Hargrove and the rest of them – just like he'd held the door closed down in the bunker and told the rest of them to run, to leave him behind.  
  
And now he's making Dustin pancakes at dawn simply because Dustin said he'd like some.  
  
“I’m okay,” Dustin says. He's pretty sure it's true.  
  
//  
  
Later, after the pancakes, he sits on Steve’s bed and watches him get ready.  
  
Steve's been playing sports for so long that it seems to have robbed him of all sense of modesty; he doesn't think twice about stripping off his T-shirt and letting it drop to the floor, unbothered by Dustin's presence as he reaches for the waistband of his sweatpants, and Dustin—  
  
Dustin averts his eyes, studying the room instead of the smooth line of Steve's spine, listening to Steve root around in his closet, the rustling sounds of him getting dressed, until he walks back into view again. He's wearing jeans and a soft-looking sweater, and with his hair still unstyled it’s a dichotomy, like he’s half King Steve and half something else, something intimate that the rest of Hawkins will never get to see.  
  
Steve had dunked his head under the kitchen faucet as Dustin gorged himself on pancakes and syrup, and now, hair damp, he continues the ritual. It feels like a strange privilege to get to watch Steve go through this process in person, and Dustin counts along as he picks up the hairspray – _one, two, three, four puffs_ – and ignores the strange, swooping feeling in his stomach.  
  
It’s on the tip of his tongue: _Why do you do that? You don’t need any of that stuff. You look good. You look— You look great_.  
  
He can't bring himself to say it though.  
  
//  
  
So, the thing is—  
  
Dustin loves his friends, but sometimes he can't wait to get away from them; Will gets broody, Mike can be a vicious little shit, Eleven’s too intense, Max is biting sarcasm personified, and Lucas is, at times, an insufferable smartass.  
  
Dustin's probably no better himself, but the thing is— He always seems to run to Steve.  
  
Steve makes Dustin feel safe and smart and, despite all of the protests, always welcome, like it's never occurred to Steve to want to get away from _Dustin_.  
  
And the feeling’s mutual, because Dustin can't seem to be able to get enough of Steve.  
  
So he pesters Steve into giving him rides – to school, to the library, home – and makes sure to regularly barge into Steve’s house with an armful of movies, insisting that he needs to be schooled in the finer points of the cinematic arts if he’s gonna keep working at Family Video. Sometimes the rest of the Party joins them, but a lot of the time it’s just Dustin and Steve, sitting in the dark of Steve’s living room, sharing a couch and some snacks, and Dustin likes to turn to watch the light of the TV play over Steve’s face.  
  
He worries sometimes, though, that Steve will grow tired of him. That Steve will realize he’s too good for the likes of Hawkins, Indiana, and pack his bags and up and leave while Dustin’s still in high school, unable to follow. Worries that the five year age gap between them is too large a chasm – that the rickety bridge they’ve constructed out of shared trauma and secrets large and small will break apart if put under too much stress.  
  
It's made worse by the fact that while Dustin had liked Suzie – had felt pleasantly warm whenever she smiled at him, had enjoyed kissing her and holding her hand – it’s nothing like what he feels around Steve.  
  
He burns hot whenever Steve turns his full attention on any other member of the Party, feels his throat close up when Steve looks twice at a pretty girl. If Dustin had his way he wouldn't share their time together with anyone else, not Robin or Will or Max or—  
  
And it's silly, because Steve's not a _thing_ he can keep to himself. He knows this, just like he knows that Steve deserves every smile that's thrown his way. But Dustin feels greedy, possessive in a way that only used to apply to his favorite childhood toys. He’ll grit his teeth and share because that's what's expected of him, but he doesn't like it – _hates_ it – wants to lock himself in a room with only Steve for company and just… stay there, the two of them, together. Forever.  
  
He's not an idiot. He knows what this is – subconsciously he's probably known it for a long time.  
  
It's why he went straight to Steve when he heard that Russian transmission; why, heart racing, he volunteered to die beside Steve in the bowels of a secret military base; why he turned back when he and Erica had a chance to escape, armed with the cattle prod and fully prepared to use it – why he doesn't feel guilty about maybe killing that doctor, because even if Dustin sometimes wonders if the Russian ever got up off the floor that day, either way it had been worth it to keep the man from placing his hands on Steve.  
  
So yeah, Dustin's not an idiot. He doesn't know when hero worship morphed into a full-blown adoration, but it is what it is.  
  
What might complicate things is that Dustin's never been one for taking things lying down, and it seems like that philosophy extends to this kinda stuff as well. He knows when he's over his head though. He needs advice. He needs—  
  
He needs a Jedi Master.  
  
//  
  
There’s a small heatwave in late spring of ‘86. The Party descends on Steve’s house after school lets out, his large, outdoor pool an oasis in the stifling heat. Robin comes too, she and Steve fresh off work and pulling up into the driveway as Dustin and the rest of the Party arrive on their bikes.  
  
Steve's eyes light up when he sees them, and he’s smiling as he throws open the driver’s-side door. He looks good, comfortable in his own skin again now that he’s not forced to follow a dress code, and Dustin's heart doesn't exactly skip a beat, but he does feel faintly queasy at the way Steve's T-shirt pulls across his chest.  
  
“We brought swimsuits!” El exclaims before Steve’s made it even halfway out of the car.  
  
They've collectively decided that their summer project this year will be to teach her to swim, and she's visibly excited for a chance to get an early start. Dustin doesn't know if she's actually looking forward to the lessons themselves or if she’s simply eager for an opportunity to spend more time with Mike. The two of them have been practically inseparable since Mrs. Byers decided to move the family back to Hawkins, much to Dustin’s relief – not only because he’s happy to have Will and El back, but also because it means that Mike’s stopped being such a mopey little shit.  
  
“Told you the dipshits would show up,” Steve tells Robin before leaning into the car to pop the trunk open, but he sounds far too fond for any of them to take offense.  
  
Robin rolls her eyes and claps her hands. “C’mon, children! There are groceries in the trunk. Dingus paid for them, and I helped him haul everything to the car, so now it's time to earn your keep!”  
  
Between the six of them they make short work of carrying everything inside and dumping the grocery bags on the kitchen counters, but Dustin lingers as the others head for the pool. Steve shoots him a grateful smile as they begin putting the food away.  
  
“Here,” he says, handing Dustin one of the bags, “frozen stuff. You know where everything goes.”  
  
And it’s true – Dustin does. He feels completely at ease in Steve’s home, down to knowing where the silverware’s kept; it makes him feel good, knowing these mundane details of Steve’s life that few others – if any – ever bother to learn.  
  
“Well, looks like you guys have everything under control,” Robin says as she saunters into the kitchen. She flicks the rim of Dustin's baseball cap and then reaches out to grab a can of Coke out of Steve’s hand just as he’s about to place it in the fridge. “Call me when the food’s done.”  
  
“I don’t know why we’re friends!” Steve calls after her as she struts away, headed for the backyard and the sounds of yelling and splashing. “This shit right here?” he says, knocking his shoulder against Dustin’s. “This is why you’re my favorite.”  
  
Dustin laughs, pure contentment bubbling out of his chest. He leans a bit closer, pressing their shoulders together, and Steve doesn’t move away, comfortable with Dustin all up in his personal space as he continues to rifle through the bags.  
  
“You don’t wanna head outside for a swim?” Steve asks once he’s shelved the last can of Coke, and Dustin shrugs.  
  
“Maybe later,” he says, because it's just the two of them, standing close in Steve's spacious kitchen, and he doesn't want to break the moment.  
  
“C’mon,” Steve says, reaching out to tug at the sleeve of Dustin’s T-shirt, “you look like you're about to pass out. Go cool off.”  
  
“I could stand in front of the fridge,” Dustin blurts out, like an idiot. He _does_ feel hot, probably smells a bit ripe, but those are minor discomforts and Steve's right here. He doesn't want to leave.  
  
Steve gives him a fond look, curling his hand around Dustin's shoulder, fingers flexing, and if Dustin dies right now at least he can blame sunstroke.  
  
“I'll go,” he breathes, and Steve smiles.   
  
“I'll be out in a bit,” he says, and Dustin nods, forcing his body not to sway in Steve’s direction as he lets go of Dustin’s shoulder.   
  
Instead, Dustin makes himself turn around and walk away, heading outside where the rest of the Party are engaged in a water fight in the shallow end of the pool, by the steps leading down into the water.  
  
Robin’s sitting at the other end, legs dangling over the edge, drinking her Coke and lazily splashing her feet in the water, jeans rolled up to her knees, as she watches the others frolic.   
  
Dustin knows an opportunity when he sees it, so he squares his shoulders and wanders over to her.  
  
“You’re a girl,” he states as he takes a seat beside her, “who likes other girls.”  
  
Robin raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t stop sipping at her drink, which he takes as a sign to continue; she might think he’s an idiot kid, but she kinda likes how blunt he is – Dustin knows this because she’s told him as much.  
  
“I,” he continues, wiggling his toes in the water, “also like girls, so I can appreciate this. However, hypothetically, if you're a boy who wants to woo another boy, how would that work?”  
  
Robin lowers the Coke can. ‘_Woo_’ she mouths to herself.  
  
“Yes, that's the word I used,” Dustin snaps, because the sun’s too bright and he's warm and Robin isn't answering his question. He really doesn't need her yanking his chain this time.  
  
“Well,” she finally says, after giving him a careful look. “How'd you _woo_ that girlfriend of yours?”  
  
Dustin shrugs. Getting to know Suzie had come naturally to him; he'd been stuck on her since their eyes first met on the second day of camp, and had spent the next two weeks seeking her out to talk, paying attention to her interests and trying to impress her with his own.  
  
He doesn't think Steve finds him very _impressive_, not like Suzie seemed to, and they're already friends, so Dustin can't make up stories that make him seem more interesting than he actually is.  
  
“I gave her this cool rock I found,” he says. It had been a packstone, according to Suzie, and she’d been visibly pleased with it.  
  
Robin sighs. “Ah, young love.”  
  
Dustin might as well have asked Mr. Wheeler for advice because he'd be just as helpful.  
  
The thought must have shown on his face, because Robin sets her Coke down.  
  
“Look,” she says, “boys are idiots, but girls are too. Whatever worked on Suzie will probably work on… _hypothetical_ boys as well.” She bites her lip, seeming to flounder for a moment. “Maybe not always flowers or jewelry or opening doors and pulling chairs out, but being nice and giving them thoughtful gifts and showing an interest in the stuff they like to do— Shit, why are you asking me this? The last boy I dated was Kenneth when we were five! It lasted for two days!”  
  
“Still more experience than I got,” Dustin mutters, scowling down at the distortion of the tiles that line the bottom of the pool.  
  
“You really like him, huh?” Robin says, knocking her foot into Dustin’s under the water and making the tiles disappear in the ripples. “Anyone I know? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”  
  
Dustin doesn’t. “I just like spending time with him, I guess. More than I do anyone else.”  
  
“That doesn't have to mean you want to date him,” Robin suggests in an oddly gentle tone of voice, “or kiss him.”  
  
“I know,” Dustin says, “but I kinda don’t want anyone else to kiss him either, so…”  
  
Robin hums thoughtfully, while in the pool Max gives a triumphant whoop as Steve emerges from the house with an armful of snacks. What follows is a lot of splashing and shouting, and Dustin doesn’t miss the way Robin’s face turns contemplative as her gaze flicks between Lucas and Mike and Will.  
  
He knows what she’s thinking, and she couldn’t be more wrong. And— it’s somewhat of a relief that she hasn’t figured it out, but the fact that she so obviously doesn’t even consider Steve an option leaves a sour feeling in Dustin’s stomach. Like she doesn’t think there’s a reason that Steve would ever be on Dustin’s radar.  
  
It makes Dustin bristle, because Steve's awesome, and anyone would be lucky to— to have him. Dustin included.  
  
“Okay, great,” he says, perhaps a bit too abruptly, and gets up. “Thanks for the advice.”  
  
Robin shoots him a look that tells him he's acting weird, but Dustin doesn't care. He remembers the expression on Suzie’s face when he gave her the packstone – delight, surprise, pleasure at the knowledge that he'd seen it and immediately thought of her – and decides that he wants to put that look on Steve's face, too. As often as he can.  
  
And if he can accomplish that by— by simply _doing_ things for Steve, or showing an interest in the things Steve like, then he has no reason or excuse not to.  
  
//  
  
Dustin ropes his mom into helping. She doesn't ask who the cookies are for, but he lets her know anyway because he wants them to be perfect and he trusts her not to ask why he's behaving slightly manic about the whole thing.  
  
She's pleased when he tells her, and suggests that they make Steve the peanut butter brittles he seemed to enjoy the last time he came over for dinner; Dustin finds that it's kind of nice, spending time with her as they bake for someone they both appreciate. Truth is he's not really cut out for baking, but with his mom's help he has to admit that the end result isn't too bad.  
  
Steve seems to feel the same way, judging by how his eyes light up when Dustin pulls the Tupperware box out of his backpack and places it on the counter at Family Video the next afternoon. It's been burning a hole in his bag the whole day and he's been pretty obvious about it, keeping his backpack close and snapping at anyone who tries to touch it – by lunchtime Lucas had demanded Dustin show them what was inside, falling short of actually accusing him of harboring another inter-dimensional baby creature, but it was well implied. All of them had seemed pretty unimpressed when he showed them the cookies, especially once it became clear that he wouldn't let them have any.  
  
“Dude!” Steve says, popping the lid off the box and peeking inside. “Awesome!”  
  
Dustin tries not to preen as Steve pops one of the cookies into his mouth, cheeks bulging as he makes appreciative noises. The sound lures Robin out from behind the shelves to see what’s got Steve so excited.  
  
“Oooh!” she says as Steve slides the box her way, “don't mind if I do!”  
  
“Dustin baked them for me!” Steve still sounds so pleasantly surprised that it makes Dustin smile, a warm glow spreading through his chest.  
  
Robin’s eyes widen as she chokes mid-chew.  
  
“_Steve?_” she wheezes at Dustin as Steve reaches out to pound her on the back. “You— _Steve?!_”  
  
Steve frowns. “I deserve home-baked cookies,” he says.  
  
“Yes,” Dustin fondly agrees as Robin tries not to hack her lungs up. “You do.”  
  
//  
  
He might go a bit overboard with the whole thing. They're small acts of kindness, and in moderation they might not have raised any eyebrows, but Dustin's always been prone to… excessive enthusiasm is what his mom calls it.  
  
He brings Steve snacks at work after school lets out – cookies, fruit, sandwiches on Fridays when Family Video gets really busy – and doesn't mess with the car radio when he's riding shotgun, though he does sometimes starts an argument when Steve's taste in music gets too grating. He insists on having biweekly movie nights now, just the two of them, letting Steve choose the movie even though he usually picks something with a lot of action and little substance, and always makes sure to say thank you whenever Steve gives him a ride, or buys him something to eat, or does one of those thousand little Steve-things that Dustin has just recently started to appreciate and reciprocate.  
  
Steve seems delighted with their new dynamic at first, all affectionate smiles whenever Dustin extends a kind gesture, and Dustin, in turn, basks in the attention. He feels like he's gonna burst, chest full of sunlight, and it never occurs to him that it might all be too much, or too good to last.  
  
He's riding that high when he asks Steve if he wants to go with Dustin to the Fun Fair. Seeing as he completely missed out on the festivities the previous year, Dustin, for one, is excited to go – and Steve must be too, because he says yes when Dustin asks.  
  
The whole Party is planning on going, of course, and Robin also, so it's not like Steve needed an invitation or— or a date.  
  
It’s _not_ a date. Dustin wouldn't— He wouldn't _stealth date_ Steve without telling him. That's not his end goal here. He wants—  
  
He just wants Steve to be happy.  
  
//  
  
The Fun Fair of 1986 opens its gates on July 4th, the same as its predecessor had, because even after everything that happened in the summer of ‘85 – the tragedy at the Starcourt Mall, as well as Mayor Kline’s subsequent arrest – the people of Hawkins had stubbornly clung to the idea of the fair. They had all been in agreement that staging a revival would be the perfect opportunity to recapture what Hawkins stands for – a celebration of small-town pride and loving thy neighbor, with the support of local volunteers and sponsors, and, most importantly, absolutely absent of Russians or foreign government interference.  
  
It’s set to be a spectacle, which is why Dustin started saving his allowance a couple of weeks before the grand opening. He’s determined to make sure that both he and Steve have a better July 4th than they experienced the previous year, even if the day in question starts off with Steve looking somewhat bemused when Dustin insists on paying for both of their tickets.  
  
Steve goes along with it though, even when Dustin grabs his wrist and tugs him away from the Party. He can see Robin watching them as they split from the rest of the group, but she doesn’t make a move to follow, and Dustin’s grateful for it.  
  
Steve’s bewilderment doesn’t last long. Dustin distracts him by insisting on visiting every stall in the fairground, playing every game, and going on all the rides at least twice. They laugh their way through the merry-go-round, rock the basket on the Ferris wheel so hard that they nearly fall off it, and go four turns on the Gravitron until the cotton candy they ate earlier almost threatens to make a reappearance. They go for hot dogs once their stomachs settle, and spend two hours trying to win a prize – any kind of prize – at the stalls before eventually giving up as they admit that they’re both hopeless.  
  
By the time the sun has set Dustin’s exhausted and sweaty and broke, but Steve’s smiling, his arm draped over Dustin’s shoulders, pulling him close as they make their way through the crowds, and Dustin wouldn’t trade it for the world.  
  
“C’mon,” Dustin says, steering them toward the back of the fair, away from the crush of people, because the fireworks are about to start and he’s scouted out the perfect spot from where to watch.  
  
Steve follows as Dustin leads him to the stalls that sell the candied apples and cotton candy, squeezing between the structures and emerging near the back fence where there’s a little hiding place, out of sight from most visitors, but which still offers a good view of the night sky.  
  
They both flop down onto the grass, and Steve leans back against the fence with an exaggerated groan.  
  
“Too much excitement for you, old man?” Dustin says, and Steve grins and kicks him in the shin.  
  
“Shut it,” he says.  
  
“Hey, you hungry?” Dustin asks, digging around in his pockets for the last of his spare change. “I can get you another hotdog or— or something else? There’s funnel cakes, too.”  
  
“Dustin.”  
  
Dustin looks up from the handful of coins he’s unearthed to see Steve plucking at a few strands of grass.  
  
“What are you doing?” Steve asks.  
  
Dustin swallows. “I'm... paying?”  
  
“Yeah, I get that. But _why?_”  
  
Dustin briefly regrets bringing them here because it’s difficult to read Steve’s expression in the dim light.  
  
“Because I want to.” He’s being absolutely truthful, but it only makes Steve shoot him a suspicious look – that much Dustin can see even in the dark.  
  
“You're not dying or anything, are you?” Steve says, but there's an underlying edge that makes Dustin think that it might actually be a serious question.  
  
And that rankles a bit – not Steve asking, but the fact that he might not think that Dustin would do these small acts of kindness just because Steve deserves them.  
  
“No,” Dustin says.  
  
“It's just—” Steve runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tic that Dustin knows by heart by now. “You've been acting kinda weird lately. It’s a bit freaky.”  
  
“Shit, thanks,” Dustin says dryly, trying to play it off, even though his heart’s starting to beat faster.  
  
“It’s not _bad!_” Steve exclaims, and it’s like he’s speaking with his whole body, turning and leaning forward, putting all focus on Dustin. “Just... a bit intense.”  
  
And that’s a good word to describe what he’s feeling, Dustin decides.  
  
_Intense_.  
  
“I like you,” he blurts out before his brain can apply any sort of filter to what he’s saying. It’s kinda horrifying.  
  
Steve brightens. “I like you too.”  
  
And because Steve’s Steve – because Dustin’s always been able to confide in him and trust him to keep his secrets, almost from the get-go, and because he’s usually the first person that springs to mind when Dustin needs to talk about girls or— or secret Russian transmissions, he just can’t seem to make himself stop talking.  
  
“No. I mean I— I _like_ you, Steve. I like you _a lot_.”  
  
Overhead, the first firework of the night lights up the sky. The color plays over Steve’s face, a pale blue that perfectly illuminates the utter confusion that is suddenly painting his expression.  
  
“What?” Steve’s voice is drowned out by the sounds of the next volley of colors, and Dustin only knows what it is he’s saying by the way of reading his lips.  
  
“I think I’m in love with you,” he says, but Steve can’t hear him either, and judging by his lack of reaction he’s not much of a lip reader.  
  
It puts Steve at a disadvantage, which seems unfair, so Dustin shakes his head and looks away, and he’s startled when Steve leans forward and clasps his hand around Dustin’s wrist. They stay like that for a moment, Steve’s eyes roaming over Dustin's face, looking for— for something, and Dustin staring right back at him, trying to appear serious and genuine and— and committed to what he’s feeling. Committed to Steve.  
  
“You _like_ me?” Steve says at last, and the blues and reds that burst across the sky paint his face in an almost-purple that looks so much like bruising that it makes Dustin’s stomach churn. “Like me, as in that you— what, you want to— to _kiss_ me? That kind of like?”  
  
Dustin’s gaze drops straight to Steve’s mouth, and it’s a knee jerk reaction, but he can still feel Steve’s grip tighten around Dustin’s wrist in surprise. Steve’s lips are parted, and Dustin’s—  
  
Yeah, he’s thought about it, sometimes. About kissing Steve and— and touching him. Just— just small touches, Dustin’s fingertips to the pale skin on the insides of Steve’s arms, curling his palms around Steve’s sides and over his hipbones, hands running up his back to pull him close as he leans in to tuck his face against Steve’s shoulder so he can smell what Steve’s cologne is like there, at the base of his throat.  
  
It must have shown on his face, because Steve sets his jaw just as the last of the fireworks fizzles out above them.  
  
“I get it,” Steve says, and his voice is loud in the sudden silence, if a bit shaky. “I— I know I’m around a lot, and I give you guys rides and take you out to eat, and you’re kids, so it’s not easy for you to do the same—”  
  
“I don't want to kiss you out of _gratitude!_” Dustin exclaims. “Fuck, Steve!”  
  
“What,” Steve says again, but it doesn’t sound like a question this time, and Dustin jerks when Steve releases his wrist and leans away.  
  
“I don’t like you because you _do_ things for me,” he tries to explain, but it’s like his tongue won’t cooperate, his words clumsy, “I like you for the same reasons I liked Susie, or— or you liked Nancy and Robin,” and Dustin knows it’s the wrong thing to say even before Steve flinches.  
  
“Look,” he continues, “I know it’s not the same for you. And that’s okay. That’s fine. This is my shit, and I’m dealing with it. I won’t— buy you things anymore if you don’t want me to. We can go back to how things were. It’s no big deal.”  
  
In the distance, he can hear the sounds of the fairground starting to close now that the fireworks display is over – of stalls and rides calling out for the last chance to ride or play or buy for the night, and the telltale murmur of people starting to wind down to leave.  
  
He and Steve should get going, too.  
  
“Are you okay?” Dustin asks, because Steve’s being unusually quiet as he considers what Dustin just said.  
  
“We're still buddies, right?” Steve sounds hesitant – still looks absolutely floored, like he never saw this coming, face kind of pale in the darkness, his eyes large.  
  
Dustin wants to touch him. Wants to cup his face in his hands, weave their fingers together, slide closer so that they’re pressed up against one another, from hip to shoulder.  
  
Wants to kiss Steve, until he doesn’t look so sad anymore, until he’s smiling – until he’s laughing against Dustin’s mouth.  
  
“Sure,” he says instead, because Steve’s obviously _freaking out_. “The best.”  
  
//  
  
August of ‘86 finds Steve still working at Family Video.  
  
Dustin doesn’t really get it, because Steve hates the place. While he seems to have formed a somewhat uneasy truce with Keith, he clearly doesn’t enjoy the work itself.  
  
At first Dustin figured the only reason Steve stuck around was because of Robin, but she’s starting community college in the fall and cutting down on her hours as a result, and Steve’s still not showing any signs of wanting to move on to something better. He’s just turned twenty and compared to Robin – or Jonathan and Nancy, who have both left town to study – he appears pretty aimless.  
  
Dustin’s not _worried_, but he might be a bit… concerned. Especially since Steve’s been acting like a weirdo since Dustin told him how he feels.  
  
Luckily he has a Jedi Master who is still somewhat easy to find during business hours.  
  
“When Steve told you he liked you, was it weird?”  
  
Robin looks surprised by the question, and Dustin wonders if she has yet to realize that Steve tells him things that he’d never tell another soul – sometimes on the pain of death, but still.  
  
“Uh,” Robin says, leaning on the counter. “Maybe a bit.” She glances over her shoulder at Steve, who's sitting in the back of the store in front of a VCR, methodically checking and rewinding tapes that have been returned. He looks miserable, scowling as he pries open another case and jams the tape into the machine.  
  
“Is he okay?”  
  
“Sure. He's just… dealing with some things right now,” Robin says, and Dustin can't remember when she started to look at Steve with fondness instead of in exasperation.  
  
Then her words register and it occurs to him that Steve might be telling Robin things too – secret things. Dustin doesn't like the feeling that triggers – something ugly that churns in his gut – and he tries to smother it the best he can, because it's not like Robin’s _competition_. Even if it sometimes feels like it.  
  
“But once you told him you liked girls, he was cool with that, right?”  
  
“Oh yeah, totally.” Robin squints at him over the counter and then, like she knows it for a fact, she says, “You told him.”  
  
“I couldn't lie!” By which Dustin means he didn't want to, not to Steve.  
  
Robin frowns. “_Is_ he acting weird?”  
  
Dustin shrugs. He doesn't want to admit it out loud, but yeah, Steve's been… not _avoiding_ Dustin, because they still spend a lot of time together, but he's distant, not touching Dustin as much, and what a time for Dustin to realize that Steve's kind of a tactile person – ruffling Dustin’s hair, poking at him when he wants Dustin to pay attention, sitting close enough to knock their shoulders together when they're watching a movie on the couch at Steve’s house.  
  
For a person who's almost always there right next to him, Steve feels very far away at the moment.  
  
“Look,” Robin says, her voice hushed because Steve might be in the back room but when he wants to he has ears like a bat. “Steve and I weren't really friends when he told me. I mean, we were getting there, because nothing brings people together like being captured by Russians,” she grins, albeit a little shakily, “but not like you and Steve. You're kind of a package deal, you know that, right?”  
  
“He's my best friend,” Dustin says, feeling like the words are inadequate to describe the pull he feels towards Steve, the by now familiar desire that tells him to make sure to keep Steve close _forever_, by whatever means necessary.  
  
“So you realize that it's not the same,” Robin says. “Don’t you?”  
  
Dustin shrugs again, feeling heat start to bloom in his face like it always does when someone points out the closeness he shares with Steve. It feels good, like he imagines free-falling from a plane feels good, or facing a Demogorgon and escaping the encounter alive.  
  
“Look, you’re gonna be a Sophomore this year,” Robin says, and Dustin’s a bit thrown by the non sequitur.  
  
“So?”  
  
Robin rolls her eyes, like he's completely missing the point. “You're a smart kid, even when you're completely clueless. _So_, everyone knows you’re not gonna stick around after graduation, at least not for long. You're gonna leave us all behind in your dust, and that's great, kid. Thing is, dingus here,” she throws a thumb over her shoulder, “is sadly just starting to figure that out. Among other things.”  
  
It feels like Dustin’s heart is suddenly threatening to beat out of his chest. “He thinks I’m gonna leave him behind?!”  
  
Robin just looks at him, and it’s like she _knows_, because— because Dustin’s thought about it. Not actually leaving Steve, but…  
  
He doesn’t know where he’s gonna end up once he graduates, but he knows he wants to go to college, get a degree of some kind – _build_ things, maybe – and he won’t be able to do that in Hawkins. And he’s watched Steve work two dead-end jobs, living for the day and never seeming to plan too far ahead or put down any kind of roots, and he’s thought that maybe… Maybe Steve’s just biding his time.  
  
Maybe he’s waiting for Dustin.  
  
“I was planning on asking him. To come with me, I mean,” he blurts out, feeling his face burn, because it seems silly hearing it out loud – a pipe dream – but Robin just gives him a soft smile.  
  
“I think that's a really good idea,” she says. She hesitates before adding, “Do you want me to talk to him?”  
  
In the back, Steve's still working on the tapes, but he's sneaking glances, looking away again as soon as Dustin notices – won't even meet his eyes.  
  
“Okay,” Dustin tells Robin, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Yeah, do it.”  
  
//  
  
He doesn’t know what Robin says to Steve during their talk, but it makes things worse.  
  
Steve spends two full weeks avoiding him. If Dustin drops by Family Video, Steve's out back for a break or in the staff room – which is really just a tiny cleaning closet Steve and Robin emptied of mops and buckets – and if Dustin goes to his house, the front door’s locked and the shades are drawn. When Dustin tries calling him over the radio there's never an answer.  
  
Dustin doesn't know how to feel about it. His mood shifts throughout the days, alternating between anger and humiliation and sadness and heart sickness, until two weeks after he gave Robin the okay, at the end of Dustin’s first official day as a Sophomore, when Steve’s waiting for him in the school parking lot after the last bell.  
  
Leaning against his BMW, the collar of his jacket popped and his aviators on, he looks carefree – every inch the King Steve he’d been when Dustin had first met him – and the sight is so unexpected it stops Dustin dead in his tracks as he steps out of the building; he’s nearly bowled over by the press of students from behind, but once he recovers, he slowly walks across the parking lot, ignoring the giggles of the girls behind him as they too spot Steve, because Steve’s not here for them.  
  
With the aviators on it's difficult to tell if Steve's watching him or not, but something about the stiffness of his shoulders – Dustin can see it now that he's getting closer – tells him Steve probably is.  
  
Dustin stops a few feet shy of the car. All he wants to do is throw his arms around Steve, show how happy he is to finally see him again, but his pride wins out in the end.  
  
“Are you done being a dick now?” he asks.  
  
Steve sets his jaw, and there’s a beat of a moment that feels almost like a standoff before he sighs and removes his sunglasses. He looks tired, eyes shadowed like he hasn’t slept in days, and Dustin clenches his fists around the straps of his backpack to prevent himself from doing something stupid, like reaching out for him.  
  
“C’mon,” Steve says, pushing away from the car and walking around the hood, “I’ll give you a ride home.”  
  
“Did my mom guilt you into this?” Dustin asks as he follows, throwing his backpack into the backseat before climbing into the front passenger seat.  
  
He knows she spoke with Steve on Saturday evening when he called to excuse himself from Sunday dinner for the second weekend in a row; she'd kept him on the line asking if he knew why Dustin seemed so sad lately, if Steve would talk to him because Dustin wasn't speaking about it to her, all while Dustin listened in on her end of the conversation, hidden from sight.  
  
“Figured it was time we talked things out,” Steve says, turning the ignition.  
  
Dustin nods because Steve’s not wrong – they’re definitely overdue for a talk – but the rest of the drive is spent in uncomfortable silence. Dustin doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has the chance, and Steve’s worrying his bottom lip as he keeps his eyes on the road, focusing hard on driving as if he doesn’t already know the way to Dustin’s house by heart by now.  
  
By the time Steve pulls into Dustin’s driveway and kills the engine, Dustin still hasn’t been able to find the right words.  
  
“You look awful,” is what he says instead, adding, “it's not worth losing sleep over.”  
  
Because it's true; he didn't tell Steve so that Steve would feel bad about it or— or _obligated_. They're friends – it's probably the most fulfilling friendship Dustin's ever had – and he just wanted to be honest.  
  
Steve looks indignant though, turning towards Dustin like he'd argue otherwise – probably on Dustin's behalf – so Dustin fumbles to get his belt unbuckled and then reaches across the center console to pull Steve into a hug. It's a bit awkward with Steve still wearing his belt and the gear stick digging into Dustin's ribs, but he can feel Steve relax into the embrace, like the tension just drains out of him.  
  
“Thank you,” Dustin says, not really knowing for what, except— everything, maybe? For giving Dustin the time of day in the first place, for being so supportive and for always having Dustin's back.  
  
Steve sighs against his neck, and that’s Dustin cue to let him go, because maybe there wasn’t that much that needed to be said after all. He turns to grab his backpack from the backseat, but hesitates before he opens the door and climbs out of the car.  
  
“See you tomorrow?” he asks. It doesn't feel like a sure thing anymore.  
  
Steve nods, a strange look on his face – part determination and part something else that Dustin can't quite pinpoint – and it shouldn't feel like a goodbye, because it isn't.  
  
But Dustin still knows things won't be the same from here on out.  
  
//  
  
Dustin turns sixteen on a Friday in January. His mom calls him her New Years baby, even though he was born on the 9th, and he makes Steve take him out for a chocolate milkshake to celebrate, just the two of them, ahead of the party that's taking place the next day.  
  
Steve puts up a few token protests but goes along with it, even if he does grumble the whole drive to the diner – ’_It’s_ freezing _outside, Dustin! Why the hell would you want a milkshake?!_’ – and it's good.  
  
They’re… good. They have been for a while now, trying to get back to what they used to have, ignoring Dustin's huge love–red elephant that's taking up all the space between them.  
  
And watching Steve from across the table. Dustin thinks that maybe this is how it goes, the drifting apart; they're great, and then he opens his big mouth and they're good, and soon they'll just be okay, until eventually they won't be anything, will be two people who merely used to know each other back in the day.  
  
He can feel his throat start to close up at the thought, and he pushes his milkshake away. It doesn't taste like anything anyway.  
  
Steve looks up from his own shake, a worried frown on his face. “You okay?”  
  
Dustin shrugs, looking out the window, ’cause he's not about to let himself start crying in a diner booth over a milkshake.  
  
“You want to leave?” Steve asks gently, even though he's not finished his strawberry shake yet.  
  
Dustin nods, and Steve gets up to pay, because he's kind like that – doesn't mind that Dustin only managed a third of his milkshake after he pestered Steve about getting him one for two whole days.  
  
Dustin groans and buries his face in his hands, and he stays like that for a bit, until he hears Steve's voice again.  
  
“C’mon,” Steve says, and then Dustin can feel Steve's fingers running through his hair, brushing the curls back from his forehead. Dustin can't help but lean into it because fuck, he's missed this – he _will_ miss it – but as soon as he does the touch is gone.  
  
“Let's go,” Steve says, and when Dustin looks up Steve’s stepping back and turning away, leaving Dustin with no choice but follow.  
  
They leave the half-finished milkshakes behind, walking out into the chill of the new year. It's five-thirty and dark already, but tomorrow's Saturday and Dustin doesn't have a curfew – he told his mom that he'd be spending time with Steve, which she knows means he might sleep over at Steve's house, too.  
  
And that's where Steve takes them, driving down Cornwallis, as Dustin watches the headlights of the oncoming cars paint Steve's face in fleeting light. It feels a bit like a dream, the two of them wrapped in the silence and the warmth of the car as they leave the town center and pass over the railway tracks, drifting down the deserted road towards Steve's home.  
  
The house is dark when they pull up into the driveway. It always is when Steve's been away, because he doesn't see a point in leaving the lights on if no one's there – Hawkins is home to Russians and inter-dimensional creatures, but few robbers, and Dustin sometimes still wonders when Steve stopped expecting his parents to come back home.

Steve turns the engine off and they sit there for a moment, listening to the ticking sound of the car cooling.  
  
“You want to go inside?” Steve asks eventually. His voice is hushed and he sounds a bit unsure, like he thinks there's a chance Dustin would rather he turn the car around and take him back home to his mom.  
  
The car’s growing colder, and the seat is uncomfortable, and Dustin feels a bit sick to his stomach, the way he sometimes does when he can't stop thinking about bleak what-ifs to come. And he can't find the words to tell Steve that all of that is nothing – is worth it – just to sit there, in the dark, and feel the reassurance of having Steve close right now.  
  
“Yeah,” is what he says instead.  
  
Steve flicks the light switch as soon as they're inside, flooding the hallway with brightness, and Dustin blinks against the sting in his eyes as he fumbles to unzip his jacket, fingers numb.  
  
Steve toes off his shoes. “C’mon,” he says, heading up the stairs, “you can borrow a sweatshirt,” because Dustin's only wearing a T-shirt and the house is cold.  
  
Dustin trails after him, awkwardly hovering in the doorway of Steve's room for a moment before stepping inside. He watches Steve root through the drawers of his dresser, throwing things on the floor and making a mess, absolutely focused on finding Dustin something to wear, and just that is already making Dustin feel warmer inside.  
  
“I can't find any clean ones,” Steve sighs, stepping back from the dresser. “They’re all in the laundry. Sorry.”  
  
“It's okay—” Dustin starts to say, but Steve's already tugging his own sweatshirt off, pulling it over his head and making his hair stand on end.  
  
“You can have this one, if you want,” Steve says, holding the sweatshirt out. He's left in a rumpled T-shirt, but Dustin knows he probably doesn't even feel the chill in the air; Steve always runs hot.  
  
“C’mon, take it,” Steve says, and he looks so insistent that it makes something in Dustin's chest crumble at the thought of Steve ever looking at someone else like that.  
  
He won't survive it, he thinks. He thought they could do it – thought they could rebuild this friendship and go back to how things were when they were great, but it wouldn't be enough.  
  
Dustin won't be able to stand by and watch Steve fall in love with someone that's not Dustin.  
  
It must've shown on his face, ’cause Steve drops the shirt to the floor and takes a step forward.  
  
“Hey,” he says, and he sounds so concerned, looks so worried and focused on Dustin and Dustin alone, eyes too-large and so expressive that it makes Dustin ache.  
  
And he knows he promised Steve that they'd still be friends – the best of friends – but it might not be a promise he'll be able to keep. Steve deserves better company than Dustin, who's lovesick and mopey and wants all the wrong things, things Steve doesn't want to give him. Dustin, who will bring them both down, who— who should leave.  
  
“Could you give me a ride home?” he manages to choke out, and feels impossibly worse when Steve's face falls.   
  
“Hey, no,” Steve says, gentle. “What's wrong? You know can tell me. Is it your mom?”  
  
Dustin shakes his head. “No.”  
  
“Is— Is it Tews?”  
  
“No!”  
  
“Dustin—”  
  
“I don't want to talk about it!” Dustin says, rather forcefully. His heart rate’s picking up and he doesn't feel cold anymore, but rather flushed and clammy.  
  
“That’s okay—”  
  
“I know it is!”  
  
Steve looks at him with those big doe-eyes and _fuck_, this is how it went last time too, fucking fuck _fuck_—  
  
“It's _you!_” Dustin thinks he might be on the verge of hyperventilating. “It's because I'm still _in love_ with you, shithead! And it _sucks!_”  
  
Steve sucks in a breath. “I'm— I'm sorry,” he says, and he _does_ sounds sorry, and maybe a little confused. Like he thought that Dustin would've been over it by now, that it had been a silly, fleeting kid crush and not something that still makes Dustin’s heart ache when he looks at Steve, like his chest’s too small.  
  
Dustin wipes at his eyes because he's _not_ going to start crying – he's _not_ – but his eyes are still stinging. “I know. S’alright. I know it's stupid, but I wanted you to know. Because other people do, and you should too, because I think you're awesome and—”  
  
“It's not stupid!” Steve says, and then flushes bright pink. “I mean…”  
  
“—I like being around you,” Dustin babbles, because now that he’s started spilling his heart he can’t seem to stop, “and when you’re not with me I’m wondering where you are and what you’re doing and who you’re with—”  
  
“Dustin…”  
  
“—and if you’re thinking about me, too.” Dustin sucks in a shallow breath. “Because you’re brave and kind and funny and you _care_ and— and I’d rather spend time with you than I would anyone else. I just… I thought you should know that.”  
  
Steve sighs and takes a step forward, gathering Dustin up in his arms like he’s small again, the way he was when they first met and Dustin had to tilt his head back to look Steve in the eyes.  
  
“You’re just a kid,” Steve whispers, tugging Dustin close against his chest and resting his temple against Dustin’s, nose bumping against Dustin’s ear. He’s trembling slightly, or maybe that’s Dustin, shaking from adrenaline and breathing in hitched gasps as Steve makes shushing sounds and runs his hands up and down the length of Dustin's spine.  
  
Dustin clutches him back, twisting his fingers into Steve’s T-shirt and bending to rest his forehead against Steve’s shoulder.  
  
“M’not,” he murmurs, feeling petulant and strangely drained all of a sudden. “I know what I'm feeling. The— the electricity, right? I _feel_ that. Every time I'm with you, I feel it—” Steve’s hands stop moving, resting flat against Dustin’s shoulder blades, large and warm. “—and it’s real, even if I’m the only one who can tell.”  
  
“You're not— You're just a _kid_,” Steve says again, sounding lost and strangely forlorn, but one of his hands is moving up to cup the back of Dustin’s neck now, keeping him close, and it’s as intimate a touch as they’ve ever shared.  
  
“I’m sixteen now,” Dustin sniffs, surreptitiously wiping his nose on Steve’s shoulder. “If you were a girl people would be patting me on the back.”  
  
Steve chuckles humorlessly, and Dustin can feel the sound rumble through him when they're pressed this close. “I’d make a totally bodacious girl.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dustin exhales into the fabric of Steve’s shirt, and then, because he feels like being a shit about this whole thing, he says, “So can I kiss you now, or what?”  
  
He feels Steve stiffen, his whole body going rigid, and Dustin immediately wants to take it back. He braces himself in anticipation of Steve pushing him away—  
  
Except he doesn’t. Steve doesn’t say yes, but he doesn’t say no either, and he doesn’t take his hands off Dustin; he’s quiet, and for a moment they stay like that, sharing a silent embrace, until Dustin finally, carefully, pulls back to look at Steve’s face.  
  
“Steve?” Dustin whispers, because Steve’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes wide, and his gaze keeps sweeping over Dustin’s face as if searching for something – keeps dropping to Dustin’s lips, and it hits Dustin like a ton of bricks that holy shit, Steve _wants_ this.  
  
He _wants_ Dustin to kiss him.  
  
“Yeah?” Dustin breathes, trying to keep his voice steady even as his heart’s about to beat out of his chest. “Steve? Can I?”  
  
Steve dips his head, and it takes a moment for Dustin to realize that fuck, it’s a nod.  
  
“Yea—” Steve starts to say, but Dustin cuts him off, surging forward to press his mouth to Steve’s.  
  
His aim is slightly off target, catching Steve awkwardly mid-word, and Dustin feels himself flush in embarrassment because it’s not _bad_ but it’s not particularly earth-shattering either. But then Steve pulls back, hands coming up to cup Dustin’s face, eyes closing as he tilts his head in, and then—  
  
It’s a soft press, the lightest touch of affection – Steve gentling Dustin’s eagerness – and a shiver runs down Dustin’s spine.  
  
He falls into Steve, clutching him closer, trusting him to bear Dustin’s weight, and Steve does, opening up for Dustin with a sigh when he licks at the seam of Steve’s mouth. He tastes sweet – _is_ sweet, letting Dustin set the pace, resting his hands on Dustin’s shoulders – but Dustin can’t help but press closer still, grabbing at Steve’s shirt and pulling, feeling a spark of exhilaration as Steve bends under his touch.  
  
And then Steve yelps in surprise, instinctively clutching at Dustin as he topples backward, pulling them both down, and Dustin narrowly avoids planting his knee in Steve's groin as they land on the bed with a bounce.  
  
Steve stares up at him, wide-eyed and out of breath, his hair fanning out like a halo against the blue of the bedsheets, and then he tilts his head back and laughs, and he’s _beautiful_. Dustin laughs with him, caught up in the giddy, bubbly feeling in his chest, and leans down to chase after Steve’s mouth again.  
  
They trade playful, open-mouthed kisses, Steve letting Dustin explore, and Dustin does – licks into him, goes for broke and shifts his weight onto one elbow, curling his hand around the side of Steve’s face, petting the back of his neck, his jawline, absolutely floored by how Steve’s letting Dustin move him as he pleases, like he’s content to simply lie there, hands resting heavily against Dustin’s shoulder blades as Dustin eats the softest of sounds from out of his mouth.  
  
Dustin hasn't kissed anyone since Suzie, but even then he can't remember it being this good, this intimate. Steve smells great, his cologne spicy but offset by the softer scent of his shampoo; Dustin’s fingertips come away sticky with hair spray whenever they edge into Steve’s hair, and next time – _next time!_ a voice in Dustin's head giggles – he wants to run his fingers through Steve’s hair when it’s freshly washed, just to see what it feels like.  
  
He swallows back a groan at the thought of Steve stepping out of the shower and uses the hand behind Steve’s neck to pull him closer; licks into Steve’s mouth as Steve opens up for him, no idea what he's doing except that he knows he wants to get closer, _deeper_, wants to spend the rest of his life eating the sweetness of the strawberry milkshake – of whatever Steve’s had for dessert – out of his mouth.  
  
Steve still doesn't seem to mind at all; his hands, first resting on Dustin's shoulders as he let Dustin taste his fill, start to move, tracing up into his curls, down the back of his neck, cradling his face, thumbs brushing across Dustin’s cheeks.  
  
Two hands are a _great_ idea Dustin decides from where he's propped up on one elbow, and he carefully lowers himself down to rest fully on top of Steve, pressing him into the mattress so that he can touch Steve back.  
  
Dustin's grown in fits and starts the past few years, enough so that he's pretty much eye level with Steve these days – his mom thinks he might have another few inches left to go, since she's taller than average and so was his dad, apparently – but he finds himself surprised by how easily he boxes Steve in; like somehow he hadn't realized that he's gotten broader and heavier as well, his body covering Steve’s lither frame with ease.  
  
The thought makes heat coil in his belly, and he boldly slides his hand up into Steve’s hair to cradle the back of his head without asking if it's okay – grabs a handful of thick hair and gives it a tug without even thinking about what he’s doing – and Steve moans and arches up against him.  
  
“Holy shit,” Dustin gasps into his mouth, grinding down, and feels Steve's hips buck up against his own as his weight forces Steve's legs further apart, letting him press closer, rubbing against Steve’s thigh. “Yeah? You like that? Holy sh—”  
  
He tugs again, mindless, hard enough this time that it forces Steve's head back as a whimper escapes from his lips. It breaks their kiss, which is a shame, and Dustin almost chases after Steve's mouth again, before realizing that he's now got full access to Steve's neck, so he places his lips there instead.  
  
Now that he's not eating the sounds out of Steve's mouth he can hear them properly – shaky exhales and, once Dustin sets his mouth to the underside of Steve's jaw and begins to worry the skin there with his teeth, a moan that makes him pull away just to get a glimpse of Steve's face; he looks flushed, stoned, and Dustin likes it, thinks Steve should look like that all the time – drunk on what Dustin's doing to him – and the thought makes Dustin kiss him again, deep and wet.  
  
“Fuck,” he says when he comes back up for air, and the look he gets in return is incendiary; he feels Steve's hands run down his spine to rest at the small of his back, pressing him down as Steve tilts his hips up, and Dustin's body seems to know what to do, grinding down hard, even when his brain feels like it's gonna melt and run out his ears at the sudden pressure on his dick.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve's murmuring, pulling Dustin into a sloppy kiss, like he's high on the feeling, and Dustin thinks he might be running his mouth too, no idea of what he's saying.  
  
Steve seems to like it though, judging by the way his hands are roaming again now that he's sure Dustin will stick to the rhythm – gripping at Dustin's shoulders, at his ass, pulling his closer as he rubs his cock up against Dustin with helpless little thrusts of his hips.  
  
Dustin can feel him along his own thigh as they rut against each other, hard and warm, and he reaches out, fumbling, to catch one of Steve's legs behind the knee, to press it up and out a bit more, carefully, so that he can get closer, feeling Steve's hands flex against his ass at the change of angle.  
  
The head of Dustin's dick is rubbing against the groove of Steve’s thigh through their jeans, and he’s gonna come in his pants, he just knows it, and so is Steve, before Dustin's even has a chance to put a hand on—  
  
He releases Steve's leg and runs his hand up his side, across the waistline of his jeans, slips it in under Steve's T-shirt and drags the fabric up far enough that he can get his mouth on Steve's skin, anywhere, licking across the sparse chest hair covering his sternum and closing his lips around one of Steve's nipples.  
  
Suddenly there are fingers in his hair, pressing his mouth closer, holding him still as Steve arches up against him; Dustin shoves his hands down between Steve's ass and the mattress, lifting, pressing him up as Dustin grinds down, and he can feel it when Steve comes, flexing and twisting against him, a garbled ’_Fuck!_’ tearing from his throat as his legs squeeze against Dustin's sides.  
  
It makes Dustin come too, world whitening out at the knowledge that he did this, that he's the one who made Steve feel this good, and he groans around Steve's nipple, feeling Steve’s hips buck in response.  
  
’_Fuck, that's awesome,_’ Dustin thinks once he's able to properly formulate thoughts again, his head resting on Steve's heaving chest, ’_we should do that all the time_,’ and Steve pants, tearing his hands away from Dustin's ass and raising them to cover his face instead, hips trembling against Dustin's like he’s experiencing small aftershocks from his orgasm.  
  
“Fuck!” he exhales.  
  
He doesn't sound annoyed though, or angry, so Dustin rolls off of him, flopping down on his side on the mattress and turning his head to rest it on top of Steve's chest. Looking down, he's got a good view of Steve's body from here, and before he knows it, he's sliding a hand down Steve's exposed stomach, feeling the muscles quiver in the wake of his touch, and covers Steve’s groin with his hand, pressing his fingertips against the wet spot that's spreading across the front of Steve's jeans, against the tip of his dick through the fabric.  
  
The breathless noise Steve makes is amazing, something Dustin will store away in his head forever and catalog for later use, and he gives another press of his fingers to force the sound out of Steve again before Steve’s able to reach down and push Dustin's hand away.  
  
Dustin lets him, strangely pleased when Steve just sighs as Dustin keeps on touching him, hand roaming across his stomach, petting his side, while he scoots up to nose at Steve's neck. The spot below Steve's jaw that he was sucking at earlier is already bruising, will probably turn into a pretty awesome hickey for everyone to see eventually, and the thought makes Dustin's dick twitch.  
  
He presses his hips against the side of Steve's leg as discretely as he can, nearly whimpering at the pressure against his oversensitive cock. It feels good though, so he does it once more, feeling himself chubbing up again.  
  
“Shit, you really are sixteen, aren't you?” Steve’s voice has a slightly hysterical edge to it, like he’s just realizing what they've done. He's flushed, from his face all the way down to his nipples, and Dustin doesn't know if it's from arousal or embarrassment.  
  
He’s hoping for the former as he drags his hand down to rest flat against Steve's lower stomach, pinkie dipping beneath the waistband of Steve's jeans.  
  
“Yeah,” Dustin says, giving a pointed thrust of his hips, because apparently Steve needs to be led by the hand through this. “You able to keep up?”  
  
Steve blinks at that, eyes widening as Dustin scrambles on top of him again to get another taste, the kiss lazy and wet and amazing – and, best of all, Steve’s kissing him back, clearly into it.  
  
Dustin grins as he feels a hand push against his thigh, and rises to his knees without breaking the kiss so that Steve can rearrange them, spreading his legs until his knees are pressing against Dustin's sides and his fingers are grasping at Dustin's shirt to tug him back down to rest flush against Steve's body.  
  
“We'll go slow, right?” Steve murmurs, out of breath and voice a bit husky. It's a good sound for him, Dustin decides. “And if you want to stop, you just tell me, okay?”  
  
Dustin nods against Steve's mouth, licking across his lips, before he pushes himself up onto his elbows.  
  
“You too,” he says, and when Steve looks confused he adds, “if you want to stop, I mean.”  
  
Steve's lips part at that, as if he's surprised – as if no one’s ever extended the same courtesy to him – and for a moment Dustin feels hot and bothered for all the wrong reasons.  
  
But then Steve's tugging him back down, exhaling a breathy ’_Yeah_’ into Dustin's mouth, and Dustin files his newfound knowledge away for another time. Instead he sets to work unbuttoning Steve's jeans, slipping a hand inside as soon as there's enough room to do so, and echoing Steve's whimper with one of his own as he finally gets to touch Steve's dick.  
  
It feels good in his grip, heavy, wet with come and still soft, but growing harder as Dustin lets his fingers explore. He’s struck by the sudden and irrepressible need to _look_, so he rears up onto his knees, ignoring Steve’s whine of protest as he pulls his hand off his dick, and starts tugging at Steve’s pants.  
  
“Off,” he says, “c’mon, get these—” and Steve tries to help, lifting his hips to allow Dustin to pull his jeans and underwear down his thighs, kicking them off as Dustin tries to catch Steve’s feet to remove his socks too, for good measure.  
  
Steve’s left in nothing but his T-shirt, and Dustin places his hands on Steve’s knees, pushing them apart, running his palms up Steve’s thighs and shuffling closer as his hands come to rest on Steve’s hipbones, framing Steve’s dick. He’s circumcised, unlike Dustin, and Dustin lets himself look – feels Steve’s hips tremble beneath his touch as his cock grows harder, longer, against his belly under Dustin’s gaze.  
  
It’s strangely sexy, having Steve bare from the waist down like this, like he’s more vulnerable half-dressed than he’d be completely naked, and Dustin can picture it in his mind: lazy, sunny mornings in a tiny, nondescript kitchen, Dustin sitting at the breakfast table and Steve leaning against the counters, sipping a cup of coffee, hair unstyled, wearing a shirt and nothing else, just a hint of soft cock—  
  
He has to remove one of his hands from Steve’s hips to press it against his own dick, grinding the heel of his palm down just to make sure he doesn’t come too soon, and Steve’s cock twitches at that, blurts precome onto his stomach, making Dustin press harder. _Fuck, he’s pretty_. It’s like a feedback loop, and Dustin puts his hands back on Steve, digging his fingers into his hips, thumbs stroking the soft skin in the crease of his thighs.  
  
“Dustin,” Steve murmurs, eyes are dark as he reaches down to grip Dustin’s wrists. “C’mon, you too.”  
  
Dustin nods, leaning back to fumble with the button on his jeans, but he can’t seem to get it right – can’t seem to keep his eyes off Steve, off his cock and the way his T-shirt’s still rucked up to his armpits – and Steve makes an aggrieved noise. He pushes himself up and slaps at Dustin’s hands until Dustin’s forced to lean back and let Steve take over, staring down at the top of Steve’s head and rising to his knees when Steve finally manages to get it right; he yanks Dustin’s pants down over his hips, shortly followed by his boxers, and then pushes Dustin back, almost sending him tumbling off the foot of the bed, as he pulls his jeans and underwear all the way off.  
  
Dustin yelps as Steve reaches out to pump his cock, black edging in on his vision as all the blood in his body rushes south. He reaches down to pull on his balls, the pain keeping him focused as Steve adjusts his grip, thumbing the head of Dustin's dick, pulling the foreskin back and smearing precome over the head.  
  
When Steve looks up at him, a flush in his cheeks, Dustin can’t help but kiss him.  
  
“I, uh,” Steve murmurs against Dustin’s mouth, leaning in for another quick kiss as he strokes his fingers along Dustin’s length, “I don’t actually know what I’m doing.”  
  
“I’ve read—” Dustin starts to say, because his mom brought him pamphlets from the hospital where she works, but Steve cuts him off with a laugh.  
  
“Such a—” he gasps, before whimpering as Dustin pushes him back down onto the bed and crawls over him, “—such a _nerd_,” and Dustin doesn’t feel the least bit bad about flopping his entire body down on him, making Steve grunt.  
  
Dustin grinds his hips down, watching Steve’s eyelashes flutter as they touch, skin on skin for the first time, and then pushes himself up on an elbow to gather both of them in his hand.  
  
They're about the same length, Dustin a bit thicker but Steve prettier, if that's something one can say about a cock. Dustin doesn't know, but he rubs at the circumcision scar at the base of Steve's cockhead, then dips his finger into the slit as Steve shakes and whimpers and grabs at his arms, precome spilling onto his belly and Dustin's hand, smoothing the way as Dustin jerks them both, and yeah, ’pretty’ is probably the first word Dustin would choose to use when it comes to Steve.  
  
Steve fumbles a hand down between their bodies and closes his fingers over Dustin's, helping him jack them until Dustin lets go and leans forward to press his mouth to the soft skin behind Steve's ear, sucking another mark to match the one he already left beneath Steve’s jaw, and he’s enjoying the taste of sweat on Steve’s skin, the smell of him, the feeling of his touch – at least until Steve loses his rhythm as well as his grip, grinding his hips up to drag his cockhead against the groove of Dustin's hip as his fingers dip down to fondle Dustin’s balls and then back up to stroke the head of Dustin's dick.  
  
Dustin groans as Steve's fingers pull at his foreskin, petting softly at the exposed head, feeling his way around – _exploring_ – and he reaches down to grab at Steve's thigh, his ass, doesn't even know where he's going with it but is fully set on wanting to touch Steve wherever he can.  
  
The angle’s awkward but he manages to grab a handful of Steve's upper thigh, feeling Steve start to push back into the touch, but then Dustin attempts to rearrange his grip and ends up accidentally nudging two of his fingertips down into the cleft of Steve's ass.  
  
They both freeze, and the only thing Dustin can hear is the sound of his heartbeat thundering in his ears because _fuck, did he just ruin everything?_ but then Steve gives a full-body shudder, arching up against Dustin's belly with a whimper. His thumb swipes over Dustin's cockhead, and Dustin whines, feeling like his mind has just been blown.  
  
“Have you ever—” he pants, digging his fingers in, petting down Steve's crease, over his hole, as Steve groans. “Steve? Steve, have you—”  
  
“Yeah,” Steve pants, and Dustin’s world goes red for a moment. “Yeah, I— There was a girl. I've— _to_ a girl, but I've never—”  
  
He throws his head back against the pillow, biting at his lip as he pushes his ass back against Dustin's fingers, and Dustin’s sure he’s going to wake up at any moment now because there's no way this is actually happening.  
  
“Are we…?” Dustin pants, too out of his head to even be able to formulate the question as he presses harder at Steve's hole, feeling the ring of muscle flex against his fingertips. “Can I—?”  
  
Steve hums as he starts to slowly fist Dustin's dick again, sounding almost thoughtful, like he's concentrating on the heft of Dustin in his hand and assessing how good it would feel inside of him instead. Dustin groans, thrusting his hips, foreskin pulling back as he gets impossibly harder, longer, his cockhead rubbing against the inside of Steve's wrist.  
  
“We need—”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah,” Dustin agrees, half out of his mind before they even get started, before remembering that they’re in Steve’s room, in Steve’s bed. “Do you have…?”  
  
Steve turns, stretching an arm out towards the bedside cabinet and fumbling as he tries to pull one of the drawers open. Dustin leans over to help, rooting around until his hand closes around a bottle of hand lotion, but Steve shakes his head when Dustin shows him.  
  
“No,” he says, “there's— yeah, that's it,” as Dustin finds a smaller bottle – actual lube, the kind Dustin would never know where to find, let alone have the guts to actually buy, but Steve would – _has_ – because Steve is _amazing_.  
  
Dustin's hands shake as he opens the bottle, spilling a bit on Steve's stomach and making him hiss. Feeling a bit bad about it, Dustin does his best to wipe the lube up with his fingers before using it to slick the way as he fists Steve's dick, fascinated both by how slippery and wet the action now is, and by the way Steve's lips part in pleasure as he mindlessly thrusts up into Dustin's grip.  
  
“This is gonna be great,” Dustin breathes, reassurance for both himself as well as Steve. He watches Steve's fingers clutch at the bedsheets, feeling his own cock throb at the thought of being _inside_ someone for the first time. “It's gonna be so good, but you gotta tell me what to do. Steve?”  
  
Steve reaches down to push Dustin's hand away, curling his fingers around the base of his cock in a stranglehold. His dick bobs above his stomach, dark red, shiny with lube and precome, and Dustin lets himself look as much as he wants as Steve pants, “Fuck, that was close.”  
  
“You gonna show me?” Dustin asks again, curling his hand around Steve's hip, squeezing.  
  
“Yeah. Let me just—”  
  
With Dustin's help Steve pulls his T-shirt off, throwing it over the side of the bed, and then he rolls over to lie on his stomach. _Fuck_, it's a good view, one Dustin's never seen before, and he fumbles with his own shirt, pulling it off and tossing it over his shoulder. Then he leans forward to nose his way up the length of Steve's spine, across the width of his shoulders, pressing his lips to the moles scattered across his pale skin. With his hands back on Steve's hips, Dustin can feel Steve lazily rubbing himself against the sheets, and he grabs two handfuls of Steve's ass, kneading. His dick bumps against the back of Steve’s thigh and he shudders, feeling Steve's thrusts falter as he moans.  
  
“Okay,” Steve says, “just— your fingers, just rub like you did before.”  
  
Dustin nods, nose bumping at the back of Steve's shoulder, and slips his hand underneath him, brushing his still-wet fingertips against Steve's cock as an excuse to wet them some more even though the bottle’s right next to Steve's hip. Steve swears colorfully at him, reaching up to grasp a pillow with both hands, turning his head to the side as his hips give a final thrust and he settles down.  
  
Dustin starts out slow, petting at Steve's hole, letting himself explore as he listens to Steve breathe. Steve's eyes are closed, but he's worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, and Dustin balances himself on his knees and leans up to sweep Steve's hair back from his face with his free hand, goes down on his elbow and licks up Steve’s jaw to capture his mouth in a kiss as he presses harder with his fingers, swallowing Steve's gasp.  
  
They both groan when the tip of Dustin's index finger breaches the first ring of muscle, Steve probably at the novelty of the feeling, but Dustin at how tight it is, how warm, and fuck, he's _inside_ Steve now. He keeps going, slowly, feeling Steve whimper and clench around him.  
  
“You okay?” he whispers, because he can't imagine that if feels _good_, but maybe—  
  
“Yeah,” Steve gasps. “Yeah. Just… big.”  
  
It isn't, not really – just Dustin's finger up to the second knuckle, nowhere near as thick or long as his cock.  
  
“Wait, I'm gonna—” Dustin says, sitting up and slowly turning his hand, petting at Steve from the inside, because he wasn't joking before when he says that he's read—  
  
Steve cries out, pushing back against Dustin and clenching around him as Dustin pushes further inside, knuckle gracing Steve's prostate as he curls his finger. Dustin keeps at it, rubbing at the little bump he’s found, and soon Steve's gasping for breath, making hitched, whimpering sounds.  
  
“I think—” he pants, licking his lips, “Another? You should give me more now.”  
  
Dustin doesn't realize he's stopped breathing until he tries to answer but only manages a groan. He pulls his finger out, slowly, and moans when Steve's hips follow the motion, lifting up from the mattress as if he doesn't want to let Dustin go.  
  
Dustin's hands shake as he fumbles with the bottle, lube sloshing everywhere, but he thinks that's understandable because Steve's shifting on the bed, rising up on his knees and tilting his ass back for more, and the pink of his hole looks soft and puffy.  
  
Slicking his index and middle fingers, Dustin reaches out to rub at his entrance again, and when Steve whimpers and pushes his hips back against the touch, Dustin presses both of his fingertips inside. It’s a tight fit, and Steve cries out as soon as he’s past the first ring of muscle, and then whimpers again as Dustin rubs at the small of his back with his free hand, feeling the tremors running through the length of Steve’s body.  
  
Steve doesn’t tell him to stop though, so Dustin slowly keeps on pushing deeper against the crush of Steve’s insides, until he can just about brush against Steve’s prostate again. The touch makes Steve’s hips jerk, and he gives a low whine as Dustin starts pumping his fingers, panting into the pillow, chest heaving, as he carefully begins to roll his hips into the motion of Dustin’s thrusts.  
  
Steve's cock is slowly plumping up again after having softened during the initial penetration, swinging heavy between his legs now, and _this is fucking_, Dustin thinks, feeling strangely lightheaded as he palms Steve’s ass – _he’s fucking Steve_. His next thrust is a bit harder, making Steve yelp and reach a hand back to grab at Dustin’s wrist.  
  
“D’stin,” he groans, “Y’need to—” and wiggles his fingers.  
  
Dustin mirrors the gesture, scissoring his fingers knuckle deep against Steve’s insides, carving out a space for himself, and Steve shudders in response, releasing Dustin’s wrist so that he can fist his own cock instead. Dustin leans back to watch, ignoring the throbbing of his dick as he kneads at Steve’s ass and tries to match the thrusts of his fingers to Steve’s strokes.  
  
Steve’s fully hard again now, precome collecting on the sheets beneath him, and he’s making the most toe-curling noises – soft moans and breathless sighs – as he rocks back on Dustin’s fingers. Dustin feels hot all over just watching him, like he’s gonna combust.  
  
“Steve,” he whines, removing his fingers so that he can touch himself, spreading the wet of Steve’s insides over his cock as he watches Steve’s hole gape empty.  
  
Steve nods against the pillow, groaning as he rolls over onto his back again, and Dustin’s on him before he has a chance to reach out. He licks into Steve’s mouth, thumbing at his nipples, petting his sides and trailing a hand down between his legs, pressing three of his fingers back inside, thrusting in and out, as Steve squirms and pants into his mouth, hands tangling in Dustin’s curls to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.  
  
“Do we need—” Dustin gasps, breaking away for air. “Do you have any—” He remembers the pamphlets, how they emphasized the importance of being protected, and pulls his fingers out to reach for the still-open drawer in Steve’s bedside cabinet.  
  
“Not there.” Steve pushes himself up on his elbows so that he can reach to trail kisses along Dustin’s jaw. It’s distracting. “Maybe in my desk, or in the car—”  
  
Dustin sighs, starting to push himself off the bed, but Steve latches on to him, curling his legs around Dustin’s hips, his arms around his shoulders.  
  
“Hey, no,” he says, “no, it’s fine. I’ve never, not without— And it’s your first time, right?” He kisses Dustin, running his hands down his sides, soothing. “We’ll be fine.”  
  
Dustin lets Steve pull him back down and makes himself comfortable in the spread of Steve’s legs as Steve pets at him, plying him with kisses. It’s sweet, and Dustin melts into the affection, palming Steve’s hip, the swell of his ass.  
  
“Steve,” he whispers against Steve’s lips, feeling him smile, and then licks deeper into his mouth as he feels Steve start rooting around the sheets for the lube.  
  
Dustin’s so focused on the taste of Steve on his tongue that he isn’t really paying much attention to what Steve’s actually doing, so the sound of the bottle being uncapped, followed by a hand snaking down between them, makes Dustin suck in a startled breath. He whines, rocking into Steve’s fist, and it’s slick and wet and feels _so good_.  
  
He pulls back to look, hips still working as he rises onto his knees, and groans at the sight of Steve’s hand wrapped around him, cockhead looking huge and obscene where it slips through Steve’s fingers and brushes up against the inside of his wrist, smearing precome and lube. Dustin chances a glance up at Steve and finds him looking, too – his cheeks are dusted pink and his lips are parted, and Dustin mindlessly reaches out to twine his fingers into Steve’s hair, and the look Steve gives him is—  
  
Yeah, Dustin’s pretty sure that if he were to give Steve a little nudge – just a hint of a push – then Steve would go along with it, would bend so that he could put his mouth on Dustin and—  
  
He leans down to kiss Steve before the thought sends him wildly off track, thrusting into Steve's fist, whimpering as Steve squirms beneath him and pushes against Dustin's hip with his free hand. Dustin lifts up, and on the next thrust Steve angles him down so that his cock bumps against Steve's balls and then further back, cockhead sliding over his hole.  
  
Steve makes a choked sound, and Dustin fumbles a hand down between them to take over, grabbing his dick and rubbing it against Steve, not pressing, but letting the head rest there at his entrance.  
  
“Yeah?” he pants, and when Steve groans and kisses him, pulling at his hip with lube-sticky fingers, he lets himself press forward.  
  
It feels impossible at first, like he's never gonna fit, but then Steve shudders and bears down, and Dustin's cockhead pops inside, breaching the first ring of muscle, and it's hot and snug and wet, and probably the best thing Dustin’s ever felt.  
  
He presses his face into the crook of Steve's neck and keeps going, pushing in deeper with small twitches of his hips, feeling like he's about to vibrate out of his skin, especially if Steve keeps petting at him and making those sounds, the hitched breaths and whimpers.  
  
“Stop!” Steve gasps suddenly, fingers clenching where he's gripping Dustin's thighs. “Don't— Don't move.”  
  
Dustin freezes, heart in his throat. “Steve?”  
  
“S’okay,” Steve pants against Dustin's shoulder, “s’just a lot,” and Dustin’s torn between feeling smug and concerned. When Steve shifts his hips, whimpering kind of pathetically, concern wins out.  
  
“Do you want to stop?” Dustin asks, even though he'd rather cut off his right arm than pull out, but Steve shakes his head. “Do you want to get on your stomach instead?”  
  
Steve takes a few deep breaths, and then he surges up to place a sloppy kiss on Dustin’s chin – possibly because he aimed too low and missed his mouth – and Dustin feels him clenching around his cock, which feels _amazing_ and sends Dustin's hips into a grinding motion, like they have a life of their own.  
  
“Yeah,” Steve pants against Dustin's jaw, sliding a hand down to grip his ass, pressing him closer. “That's it. C’mon, _move_.”  
  
His eyes are on Dustin's face, taking in his expression, the way Dustin’s enjoying himself, and it makes Dustin flush, turning his head to kiss him, changing the angle as he pushes the rest of the way in, bottoming out and swallowing Steve's whimpers as he licks them out of his mouth.  
  
“You're amazing,” he gasps, rotating his hips against Steve’s ass in the smallest of motions, feeling the soft fluttering of Steve's insides around the length of his cock. “You feel so good. Do you like it?” and he wants to add something on the end, like _sweetheart_ or _baby_, but the words feel clumsy on his tongue and he's not sure if they would be okay, so he just pants, “Steve? Steve, is this good?”  
  
It is, judging by the way Steve keens, wrapping a leg around Dustin's ass to pull him deeper, harder, trying to coach Dustin into some kind of rhythm. It makes Dustin aware of the fact that he's kinda just grinding mindlessly at the moment, and he tries to follow along with Steve’s movements, thrusting, angling his hips to find Steve's prostate again.  
  
At first, it's a bit like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time, but then he thinks he gets the hang of it, because Steve’s mouth drops open and he throws his head back against the pillow, letting out a hitched cry as he arches up against Dustin.  
  
Dustin slips his hand in between the mattress and the small of Steve's back, feeling the way his whole body trembles, and tries to make Steve stay in place as he aims for the same spot again on his next thrust, sheathing himself to the hilt.  
  
It seems to work because Steve makes that sound again, and Dustin closes his eyes and gives in to the fuck, grinding against the plush curve of Steve’s ass before he pulls back out in a slow drag until his cockhead catches on Steve’s rim, feeling Steve clench around him, knees knocking against his sides and fingers digging into Dustin’s shoulders. When he drives back in it’s deep, tearing another cry from Steve, something that sounds like it’s been ripped out of him, and Dustin does it again, and again, fucking little _uh uh uhs_ that gradually grow higher in pitch out of him.  
  
Steve tightens around Dustin with every thrust back in, and the silky pressure feels amazing, his insides yielding around Dustin’s cock, like Dustin’s making a space for himself where no one’s been before – and, if Dustin has his way, no one but him will ever, ever be.  
  
“Steve,” he gasps, surging up to catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss, feeling a bit lightheaded as Steve opens up for him with a whimper; when Steve raises his hands to cup Dustin’s face, fingers threading into his curls and brushing damp hair away from his temples, Dustin realizes he’s sweating.  
  
“Touch yourself?” he asks Steve, because he doesn’t think he can muster up the coordination to manage it himself, not if he wants to keep fucking Steve – and he really, really wants to keep fucking him. “Would you— I want to feel you come. Can I? Can I, Steve?”  
  
Steve groans like it’s an inconvenience but does as Dustin asks, snaking a hand down between their bodies and hissing as he folds his fingers around his cock, like he’s oversensitive. The knuckles of his hand bump against Dustin’s stomach as he jerks himself, and Dustin can’t help but pull back to look at him; Steve’s face is flushed, his lips a bit swollen and eyes hooded as he gazes back at Dustin.  
  
“Fuck,” he pants as Dustin thrusts into him and starts up a slow grind, his eyelashes fluttering as he turns his head into the pillow, biting his lip.  
  
Dustin noses at his cheek, kissing his jaw and his chin and licking across his lips, coaxing them open so he can swallow Steve’s moans, and Steve wraps a leg around Dustin’s waist, heel nudging at Dustin’s ass as he pumps his own cock.  
  
“C’mon, Henderson,” he groans breathlessly, “put your back into it,” and Dustin chokes out a laugh, his chest feeling light with pleasure.  
  
He curls his hands under Steve’s shoulders, pulling him down onto his cock as he starts to thrust again, hard and deep, feeling Steve begin to tremble.  
  
“Fuck!” Steve whines, “Dustin, fuck—!” and then he’s coming, spilling over his fist and shooting over both their stomachs as he clenches around Dustin, who groans because it’s like Steve’s body is trying to wring Dustin’s orgasm out of him, too.  
  
He falters as he tries his best to fuck Steve through it, feeling that familiar tightening in his balls, and he holds his breath until Steve finally melts into the mattress with a contented sigh, come-sticky hand coming up to pet at Dustin’s hip, prompting Dustin to slowly start to thrust again. Steve moans as Dustin pants against his neck, sliding his hand down to grope Dustin’s ass.  
  
“You close?” he whimpers, flexing his fingers, rocking in time with the movement of Dustin’s hips as his other hand comes up to tangle in Dustin's hair, tilting his head up so that Steve can kiss him, wet and soft with a lot of tongue.  
  
“Yeah,” Dustin grunts into his mouth. “Steve—”  
  
Steve’s still shaking, full-body trembles that Dustin can feel wherever they touch, and he's still clenching around him too, whining as the head of Dustin's cock brushes against his prostate. Dustin pulls back to watch Steve's eyelashes flutter with his thrusts as he rocks Steve against the mattress, and knows he should ask, but he can't seem to form the words, doesn't want to leave the warm, tight space he's made for himself.  
  
“Steve,” he whines again, hoping Steve will understand.  
  
“Don't pull out,” Steve gasps, using his hands to tug Dustin closer, because thank fuck they're on the same page. “Inside, yeah? I want to feel it.”  
  
And it's all Dustin can do to grunt and shove in as deep as he can, pulling at Steve's shoulders to keep him in place as he swivels his hips and feels himself flex and finally, blissfully, come, shooting in hard spurts to mark Steve up from the inside.  
  
“Fuck, _fuck_ that's deep!” Steve whimpers, even as he pulls at Dustin's ass like he can somehow get him deeper still.  
  
Dustin moans, rocking against him with the smallest of motions, bowled over by the soft pressure of Steve’s insides fluttering around him, milking the come out of him, and he can feel the slide get wetter as he continues to shoot. Steve must be able to feel it too, the way his face flushes a darker shade of pink and his mouth goes lax.  
  
It feels strangely intimate considering everything they've just done, and Dustin shivers as Steve clenches around him, wanting to stay inside of him forever if he could, but he's suddenly too sensitive and too soft, and so he's forced to slowly pull out into the cold, awful air of the bedroom.  
  
Steve gives one last whimper as Dustin's cockhead leaves his body, his hole clenching on nothing, and then he relaxes into the bed like all of his strings have been cut. Dustin can't look away from the spread of his legs though, taking in the redness of his skin where Dustin's hips have been shoving against him, the dusky pink of his hole that's as slick and shiny with lube as Dustin's cock.  
  
Dustin groans, reaching out to trace his fingers around the twitching muscle, fingertips catching on the rim and coming away wet with Dustin's come. The touch makes Steve jerk, halfheartedly kicking out at him.  
  
“Stop it,” he slurs, and Dustin gives his hole one last reluctant rub before looking around for something to clean them up with.  
  
He spots his T-shirt hanging off the foot of the bed and reaches for it, carefully wiping across Steve's stomach and chest, at his soft cock and down past his balls and over his hole as Steve moans, hips twitching, before Dustin turns his attention to himself; he groans, as much at the feeling of the fabric dragging over his dick as he does the sight of his come slowly slipping out of Steve to stain the mattress below him.  
  
Steve must feel it too, because he makes a face, but Dustin throws the T-shirt aside again and reaches for him, and Steve doesn't put up any kind of protest as he lets Dustin move him around on the bed and wrestle them both beneath the covers.  
  
They end up on their sides, facing each other, and Dustin can't seem to stop touching Steve, running a hand down his flank, over his hip, as Steve shivers and presses closer, slotting their legs together and wrapping an arm around Dustin's waist. Dustin rests his forehead against Steve's and cups a hand around his hip in return, rubbing a thumb over the soft skin there.  
  
For a moment the room’s quiet as they rest, breathing the same air. Lips almost-touching but not quite. It doesn't seem right to break the silence, but eventually Dustin’s need to know grows too strong.  
  
“You're coming with me, right?” he whispers, feeling Steve's eyelashes brush against his cheek. “To wherever it is I end up, I mean.”  
  
“Yeah,” Steve breathes, hushed like it's a secret, and then adds, “yeah, of course,” like that settles the matter, and maybe it does. Dustin's never known Steve to make empty promises when it comes to this sort of thing.  
  
It makes him press a light, chaste kiss against Steve's lips.  
  
“Thank you,” he murmurs. “I love you.”  
  
Steve's breath hitches and he tilts his head to look Dustin straight into the eyes. “I love you too,” he says, for the first time, and something inside Dustin's chest shudders and unravels.  
  
//  
  
On Saturday Dustin wakes up in a bed that’s not his own, to the sight of the morning light falling across the pale skin at the small of Steve's back.  
  
There's no place he'd rather be.  
  
//

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaand that was my first ever sex scene. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
